


I'll Be the Death of You (I Promise)

by SerenityLost



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bondage, Captivity, Dom/sub, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Femdom, Masochism, Mildly Dubious Consent, Power Imbalance, Predator/Prey, Sadism, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-04-16 01:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14153346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenityLost/pseuds/SerenityLost
Summary: AU in which Julian never returns to Vesuvia of his own accord. Instead, the apprentice accepts Nadia's request to find him, catch him, and return him to the hangman's noose. Or at least, that was her plan...More info about my apprentice Kori & sneak peeks of chapters in progress can be found on my tumblr:serenitylost.





	1. Flirt with a Countess

“I still don’t understand. Why now? What’s changed?” Kori looked up at the regal woman seated before her on the balcony. She struggled to get a proper read on her - her gaze was cool, her expression composed, and yet…

“It’s true, it has been years. Perhaps much of the city has already forgotten.” The countess tugged her lips into a small frown. “But I have not forgotten.”

Kori worked her jaw briefly, searching for something in those red eyes, before huffing and turning back to the task at hand. The woman had not answered her question. But if she was determined to be inscrutable, so be it.

Fumbling through her pack, Kori drew out a small pouch and pulled at the drawstring, releasing the strong scent of camphor. She took a generous pinch of the powdered herb and scattered it into the small basin that rested between them. She pursed her lips for a moment, studying the basin and the mixture of potent magical reagents that rested within it, before adding one more pinch for good measure.

She returned her gaze to the countess. The woman was watching her carefully, features as placid as ever, but there was a clear glint of interest in her eye.

“Perhaps you believe I am simply chasing ghosts? That there is, in fact, no justice to be found for my dear departed husband?” She raised an elegant eyebrow, questioning.

Kori rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I never said that. But it would help if I actually had something - _anything_ \- to go on. I’ve never done this before, you know,” she gestured vaguely to the basin between them. “It could very well blow up in our faces. And I wouldn't want to ruin that pretty dress.”

Kori smirked at the countess. As always, her fashion was exquisite. This evening she was clad in soft red silks which hung delicately off her shoulders.

“Kori.” The countess’s voice was firm. Patient. “I have faith in your abilities. My dreams-”

“Yes, yes, you’ve told me of your dreams, Nadia - ah, _milady.”_

“Nadia is fine.” She graced Kori with a gentle smile. “Regardless, I do believe that this will work. Perhaps you could stand to believe it yourself.”

Kori hummed noncommittally in response. Her magic had a nasty habit of being rather unpredictable - _especially_ when she was trying something new. She figured there was some small chance it would work, a strong chance it would simply fizzle out, and a not-insignificant chance that it would fail in a much more spectacular fashion.

Ah, well. It was the risk that made it interesting, after all.

Kori placed her hands over the basin and took a deep breath, drawing in magical energy and focusing it down. She felt the brief snap of heat in her fingers, and the herbs began to smolder.

She looked to Nadia. “You have the letter?”

The countess produced a tightly-rolled scroll and handed it across the small space between them.

Kori gently unfurled the letter, holding it above the basin where pungent smoke was already beginning to bloom thickly. The messy scrawl that marked the page was almost entirely indecipherable.

“ _Dear Sister…”_

The smoke enveloped the letter, making the spidery writing swim. Kori closed her eyes and focused on the feel of the paper in her hands.

The first thing that hit her was loneliness. It swept over her in a sudden gust: that empty, sickening void. She recoiled, her hands jerking reflexively, and heard the soft tear of paper as she moved.

“Kori?” Nadia's voice was measured but concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“I'm fine, I'm fine,” Kori assured her, shaking her head as she worked to compose herself. She looked at the letter. It was torn, but only slightly. She took a breath and closed her eyes again, bracing herself.

This time when the loneliness came, she bore it with gritted teeth, allowing the feeling to wash over and through her. The emotion was strong, but she couldn't get caught up in it. She needed more. She needed the man behind it.

The herbs in the basin hissed and spat as flames began to spark to life among them, violet and red and mired in heavy smoke. Their complex, heady smell saturated the air and filled Kori's lungs, making her eyes water with its intensity.

She sought it out, and it grew in her senses: the barest wisp of him. Not quite a scent, not quite a feeling - the afterimage of his aura as it lingered in emotions past.

She trained her energy on that wisp, listening to it, memorizing it. It grew stronger in her mind as she focused, clearer and brighter until it seemed almost as though she knew him already, knew him deeply, like an old friend.

She let out a slow breath through pursed lips. That would be enough. Now…

Kori let her attention soften and spread, no longer fixed on the scroll in her hand, moving gently outward around her. It brushed over Nadia where she sat, composed as always, with an intense curiosity buzzing through her, hidden beneath the surface. It passed through the palace: over the guards in the hallway, standing alert but relaxed. Past the servants who scattered the grounds, bustling and chatting with busy energy.

The flames in the basin leapt higher, blazing iridescent in the low light of evening. They licked around Kori's hands and the letter she held, hot and dry, but they didn't burn. The smoke hung heavy around the two women, acrid and oppressive in its weight. Even the gentle breeze that blew in from the gardens did little to stir it.

Kori could feel her magic begin to strain as it spread outward through the city, sweeping over houses and streets and gaggles of people, searching, seeking, tasting the air for any hint of the wanted man. She took a deep breath of the perfumed air, letting the herbal magic steady her as she stretched it farther, farther, until she was pushing the borders of the city itself.

The fire cracked and sputtered loudly, sending colorful sparks cascading across the balcony. Her eyes were shut, but her senses were open: Kori could feel rather than see the way they showered down around the two of them, the barest intake of breath as Nadia tensed and shifted. But the countess made no complaint - the sparks, much like the fire, were harmless.

“He’s not in Vesuvia,” Kori said. Of that much she was certain. Any trace of his aura in this city was faint and faded from the passage of years.

“No, I don’t suppose he would be,” Nadia replied simply. “He is, after all, on the run.”

Kori opened her eyes to meet the countess’s gaze. She did her best to keep her breathing steady as she held the vastness of Vesuvia in her mind’s eye. “I don’t know how much farther I can look.”

Nadia held her eye calmly, her posture impeccable. “You will look exactly as far as it takes. Trust yourself, Kori. You _will_ find him.”

Kori watched her for a long moment, her red gaze steady and strong, like a stand of rock in the middle of a raging ocean. Kori held it tightly, stabilizing herself as best she could.

_Well,_ she thought to herself, _here goes nothing._

With a burst of effort, she pushed her awareness further, past the edges of Vesuvia, through the countryside beyond. She passed roads and farms and smaller towns, each settlement leaving a brief impression on her vision before she discarded it.

Not there. Not there. Not there.

She could feel her magic wobbling, moving erratically in strong bursts and short crawls. Covering an entire town in one moment, and only a single hut in the next. Her power was well and truly straining now, eking out every bit of support she could draw from the fire and the smoke and the steadfast presence of the woman before her.

There was something strange, too, on the edges of her consciousness. A feeling of strength, but...distant. A promise of power, just beyond her. Or...underneath? Something large and strong and unstoppable, growing alongside her like a tide pulled by the moon. She felt almost as if she could reach it, if she could only break through…

Something else caught her attention. A flicker, to the side. A breath. A heartbeat. She turned towards it as she reached out with her mind, pulling, grasping at the power that surged beside her. She could almost feel it licking at her fingertips, and then-

“ _Fuck!”_

Kori jerked back as a surge of pain bit through her fingers. The fire sizzled and _snapped_ with a crack like thunder, and this time the sparks it hurled at them glowed orange and red and burnt where they landed.

Kori scrambled backward. The scroll she held was smoldering, embers feasting at its edge. She dropped it on the ground and kicked her legs out in front of her to stomp out the fire. She grabbed the front of her own shirt and shook it roughly, dislodging several stray embers, and ran her hands through her hair to remove a few more. Breathless, drained, and disheveled, Kori looked up at the countess.

Nadia had risen and was brushing idly at her clothing; she looked entirely unfazed.

“So.” She fixed Kori with that arresting gaze. “Did you find the doctor?”

Kori coughed, ran a hand over her face, and began to climb to her feet. Then she thought better of it and slumped heavily back down.

“I, ah... _uhn.”_ She felt sluggish, her mind struggling to function. But there _had_ been something. The heartbeat. She had sensed him, if only for a moment.

“Sort of. Not exactly,” she offered dully.

Nadia raised an eyebrow at her.

“He’s, uh…” Kori squinted against her growing exhaustion and pointed vaguely in the direction she had sensed that brief flicker. “...he’s that way.”

“‘That way?’” Nadia’s eyebrow crept higher. “Do you perchance have a more specific estimate than…’ _that way?’_ Or must I send soldiers to scour every city east of our border?”

“I…” Kori rubbed her temples. “I don’t know, exactly. But- but I think I can find him.”

As she said the words, she was suddenly certain. She _could_ find him. She knew which way to go; she had his aura in her sights, like a hound with a whiff of their prey. And as she grew closer, the scent would grow stronger.

“Good.” Nadia nodded. “Tell me what you need, and I will ensure that you have it.”

Kori felt something stir within her. Beneath the exhaustion bubbled a new feeling: satisfaction, in part, that her spell had succeeded. But there was something else, too, mixed in with it - a kind of excitement, an eagerness, a sense of adventure. This would be dangerous, yes. Unpredictable, certainly. And she was willing to bet it would be a hell of a lot of fun.

Kori smiled. She didn’t need anything. Just herself, her magic, and the taste of her prey.


	2. Buy a Killer a Drink

Voices clanged through the tavern like so many amateur instruments, reverberating in the small space and filling it with the messy feeling of life. Kori made her way to the bar, weaving through tightly-pressed bodies and dodging stumbling patrons as she went. It was late, and the sour scent of alcohol-tainted breath hung heavy in the humid air.

Vesuvia was weeks worth of travel behind her now, and the town she found herself in was markedly different. It was smaller, and rougher, and a good deal more lively. That is, if you consider theft and banditry and brawls in the streets to be lively.

She could feel his aura now, like a ghost upon her skin. He was close, so very close, and she was closing in.

With a quick twist and bump of her hips, Kori shoved away a stocky patron and opened a spot for herself at the bar. The person she had displaced swiveled towards her, swaying and snarling with drunken displeasure. Kori brought a hand to her face and blew gently over her knuckles, and their gaze slipped over her like silk to land on the unwitting patron behind her.

“The hell do you think you did- do...er- done-” they slurred angrily, brushing past Kori to confront the entirely-confused target of their ire.

Kori edged away from them, ignoring the budding conflict beside her and flagging down the barkeep to order a drink.

It was strange: now that she was so close, it was harder for her to pinpoint the doctor’s direction. His presence was so strong, so keen in her mind that she could practically hear every thrum of his heart. The feeling of it was all around her, every which way, saturating the crowded space and muddling with the several dozen other auras that clamored through the tavern.

She sipped her drink and slipped a hand into her bag, fumbling around until her fingers brushed up against the letter she still carried. Maybe it could sharpen her focus, help her find him in all this noise… She closed her eyes and trained her attention on the paper.

...no luck. Kori huffed in frustration. The scroll only served to amplify the confusing mess in her mind.

Fine, then. She tipped back another swig and let the liquid burn down her throat. He was here, that much she knew. She could do this without magic.

Her eyes wandered over the motley assortment of travelers and drunkards that packed the room. Though Kori had never met the doctor herself, Nadia had been thorough in her descriptions, and he would almost certainly stand out. It shouldn’t be that hard for her to-

There was a loud crash behind her. Something shattered, and the tinkling of falling glass rang out in the air. She turned to look, catching a glance of the conflict that had now broken out in earnest, just as several voices swelled around her in a cacophony of angry shouts.

It was tempting - almost too tempting; it felt like an age since she’d been in a good brawl. Her fingers twitched by her side.

But no. No. There was work to be done. Grudgingly, she snatched up her drink and backed away from the fight, winding her way back into the crowd. Where was he? She could still feel that heartbeat in her head.

Ducking through the mess of people, she flicked her eyes about, catching as many faces as she could. She worked her way toward the back of the tavern, where a fire glowed feebly in a stone hearth and small, cramped booths lined the walls.

There. A glint of red in the firelight. Kori approached the booth where she’d seen it, angling for a better view, and _...yes._ Tall, red-haired, eyepatch. It was him.

Tension buzzed through her, muscles coiling in anticipation as she closed the remaining distance. She slid smoothly into the seat across from him, took one long draught to finish her drink, and set the empty tankard down on the table with a loud clang.

“Is it just me, or is the whiskey here absolutely _terrible?”_

He looked up at her, blinking. The flickering firelight cast soft shadows across his features, highlighting the angular slope of his nose and deepening the dark, sleepless ring around his eye. He was hunched over the table, hands curled around the drink he’d been nursing, and there was a distinct sharpness to his aura: a sense of bitterness, and regret.

The pall of dark emotions eased somewhat as he raised an eyebrow in her direction and let out a low chuckle.

“Oh, they water it down quite a bit, I’m sure. Hardly the worst I’ve had, though.” A small, wolfish grin crept across his face.

Kori pouted. “Well, that would explain why I can’t feel it at all yet. Guess I’ll have to try harder. Server!” She raised a hand to wave someone down.

“Ah, I don’t think you’ll have much luck with that. Service isn’t great here, especially when they’re, hmm, distracted.”

Kori followed the doctor’s gaze to the mess of shouts and limbs that still clashed behind her. It had migrated slightly, urged away from the bar and towards the front door by a handful of staff who were working doggedly to end the fight - or at least expel it.

“...but I can get you something at the bar, if you like? Whiskey, was it?” He rose as he spoke and made to exit the booth.

 _“You -”_ she punctuated the word by swinging a leg onto the bench across from her, boxing him in. “- clearly do not know me very well. Sit down.” She gave him a flashy, conspiratorial wink. “Watch.”

He sank back to his seat, acquiescent and...was he blushing? The dim light made it difficult to tell.

“Server!” Kori called again. She flicked her wrist in a small wave, and a petite waiter who had been watching the fight swiveled suddenly, looking around. She caught their eyes and, with a broad smile and a gentle _tug_ of magic, beckoned them over to the booth.

“Two more of whatever he’s having.” She nodded toward Devorak, who was watching her intently with an eyebrow raised, a tiny smile playing at his lips.

“Ahem.” He looked down at his mug, swirling it absently. “That’d be a…Bellwether Blitz.”

The server nodded and set off to fetch their drinks. Kori fixed her eyes on the doctor, letting her foot drop off the bench and trailing it down the side of his calf. He started, and met her eye, definitely blushing this time.

“Rather forward, aren’t we?” he said, recovering quickly and favoring her with a wide grin.

“Always.” She set her elbows on the table and leaned forward, eroding the distance between them.

“So, stranger,” she continued, eyes twinkling, voice pitched low. “Care to tell me your name?”

 

* * *

 

The door slammed shut behind them as they tumbled out into the street, limbs entwined, bodies close. His hands tangled deep in her hair as she pulled at him, at his shirt, at the back of his neck, drawing him down to catch his lips in her own. They stumbled together, nearly toppling to the cobblestones as they moved.

They’d only had a couple drinks, but there was something about the contact, about the adrenaline coursing through her veins, about the knowledge that _she was_ _kissing a_ _murderer_ \- it made her giddy, made her head spin.

Devorak wound an arm around her waist, steadying them both, and half-lifted, half-pushed her around until her back was against the wall. His mouth moved greedily against hers, long fingers trailing across her hip. She nipped at his bottom lip - gentle, testing - and felt something hot spark through her as he gasped and pressed closer.

Oh, she could get lost in this man. The things she could _do…_

She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her thoughts. No, no, she had to focus.

She hooked her hands around his arms and pushed, forcing him away. He yielded easily to her touch, releasing his grip on her waist and stumbling back, his eye catching hers with a questioning look.

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

Kori’s gaze tracked hungrily over his face, taking in his mussed hair, the flush blooming over his cheeks, the way he tugged his lower lip between his teeth… His eye was hooded, lustful, and she realized as it grazed across her features that she must make a similar sight. She could feel the warmth in her cheeks, the taste of him still on her tongue as she flicked it over her lips.

“It’s OK, you can tell me,” he went on, hands at his sides, unmoving. “What do you want?”

She looked past him, out to the street where a single rickety lantern cast a soft circle of light. At this hour, the street was quiet and empty. Even if someone did pass by, they were unlikely to come to his rescue - it wasn’t really that kind of town. Still, this was a public place, and she didn’t want to be disturbed.

“Not here.”

Kori slid her grip to the crook of his elbow, and dragged him along with her as she sauntered down the street and slipped into a nearby alley.

He chuckled as she led him further into the dark, narrow space. “Are you planning to rob me? I’m afraid I don’t have much of worth.”

A snort escaped her, followed by a grin. She took him by the hips and pressed him firmly up against the wall. Her hands trailed up, skimming over his chest, dipping behind his head to tangle in his hair.

“It’d be a good place for it, wouldn’t it?” She quirked an eyebrow at him, earning her a sharp laugh. Tugging his face to hers, she brought their lips together and swallowed the sound of it, grinning against his mouth.

His hands grazed her hips, working their way around to the small of her back, then up, up along her spine, fisting in the fabric of her vest as he pulled her closer.

Some small part of her mind nagged at her, telling her to get on with it. But- mmm, then again, why bother? What was the harm? She was enjoying herself, and in no particular hurry.

She brushed her lips along the line of his jaw, settling at the spot where it joined his throat. He hummed and slid down the wall slightly, giving her better access. His eye fluttered shut and his head dropped back against the wood as she licked at his pulse, pulling skin between her teeth.

She let a hand drop from his hair and glide down the side of his neck, bringing her thumb around to ghost over the hard line of his throat. The _shudder_ that ran through him made her gasp, her exhale hot against his skin.

 _Fuck._ Business could wait.

Her hands worked their way down, faster now, on a mission, tugging at the buttons of his coat. She wanted to touch him. Wanted to slip her hands under all that clothing and dig her fingers into his skin.

He seemed to have similar ideas. Long fingers danced across her clothes, pulling at her vest, dragging it down over her shoulders, fussing with the strap of her bag where it caught on the cloth. She broke briefly from her assault on his garments to pull the strap over her head, shrugging it off and letting the pack fall to the ground.

...where it promptly snapped open and disgorged all of her belongings into the dirty alleyway with a loud clatter.

“Ah, crap, I’m sorry, I didn’t-” Devorak dropped down and reached out in the darkness, searching for her scattered things.

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Kori groaned, feeling dazed from the sudden loss of contact. She took a moment to gather herself, pushing hair out of her eyes and running a hand across her face, before summoning a spark of magic and flicking a small ball of light into the air.

The doctor jumped. He craned his head from where he knelt on the alley floor, peering up at the hovering blue light with mistrust reflecting in his eye.

“Oh, that’s, ah- ahem. Magic, huh?”

“Mm.” Kori knelt by his side and began to collect her things back into her pack. Devorak helped, handing over little pouches of herbs and unlabeled vials of liquid. He paused as he picked up a loose scroll that had come slightly unfurled.

“Is this- ? Hm…”

Kori stuffed a bundle of rope into the bag and glanced over at him. Her eyes skipped down to the scroll, which he was now pulling carefully open.

Realizing what it was, she snatched at the paper, but he stood swiftly, stepping out of her reach as he studied the document. She tensed and rose, watching him keenly.

“This is…” he trailed off, frowning. He looked up to meet her gaze. “Is- is this...mine?”

She considered lying. She could spin a tale, try to convince him that...that… Well. Nothing came to mind. She blew out a sharp gust of air.

The moment was already broken. It was time.

Strangely, she felt a bubble of laughter rising within her. It was a tense laugh, coming out short and lilting. She straightened her vest, pulled her bag back over her shoulder, and met his eye.

“Ahh...yeah. Yes. It’s yours.”

He blinked, mouth working briefly before he found his words.

“Why do you...where-” his eye flicked down to the paper and back up to her. “...how do you have this?”

She could see the tension in his body now, in the way he held himself: shoulders hunched, muscles taut. She had him cornered, more or less. The alley extended a little ways behind him before dead-ending, and she stood between him and the way they had come.

“I found it,” she offered simply. “In Vesuvia.”

“In Vesuvia,” he echoed. Paused. “Ah.”

He looked down, shaking his head. “Hah. Well. I’m a fool, aren’t I?” He met her eyes again, a grin on his lips that might as well be a grimace. “Did the palace send you, then?”

She nodded, watching the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eye darting past her to the alley entrance. He looked ready to bolt.

She reached for her swords.

He paled visibly in the eerie light, taking a reflexive step back as the blades slid from their sheath. The letter fell from his hands, forgotten.

“What, ah-” he swallowed thickly. “What exactly did they send you to do?”

Kori made note of his fear. She could use that.

“Ideally?” She rolled her shoulders, adjusting to the weight of the weapons in her hands. “Bring you back to Vesuvia. Deliver you to the countess.”

He exhaled quietly, the slightest touch of color returning to his cheeks.

“Less ideally?” she continued, glancing pointedly down at her swords. She shrugged. “Well. She’s not entirely particular about the condition you arrive in."

In truth, that was a bit of a stretch. Nadia _had_ authorized her to use lethal force, but only if it was absolutely necessary. The countess wanted him alive.

But he didn’t have to know that.

Kori cocked her head at him with a gentle smile. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to come quietly?”

He grimaced, glanced behind himself toward the dark, dead-end alley, then back at her, eyeing the blue glint of her blades in the dim light.

“Hmm. It doesn’t look like I have much choice, does it?”

She shrugged. “You could try to fight me.”

He snorted at that. “I could try. But it hardly seems fair. I’m unarmed, and I have no magic.” He spread his hands as if to demonstrate.

She watched him silently, waiting for him to make a decision. He looked an absolute mess. His hair skewed every which way, falling into his face and obscuring his features. His jacket was crumpled and hung slightly open, half of its buttons undone. The gloomy lighting and deep shadow under his eye weren’t helping much, either.

He sighed. “OK. Alright. You win; you’ve caught me. I surrender.”

Kori narrowed her eyes. Would he really give in so easily? She wasn’t entirely convinced. But hey, if he wanted to play games, that was fine with her. She liked games.

“Hmm, good. Now turn around. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

He hesitated, glancing down at her weapons again. “You’re, uh- you’re not going to...kill me, are you?”

“Not if you do as I say.”

He bit his lip and met her eyes briefly, but obeyed without another word, turning slowly and raising his hands in the air.

She approached carefully, sliding her swords back into their sheath. It was a risk, certainly, to declaw herself, but she needed her hands free. She ducked to recover the tattered letter from where it lay, stuffing it away as she pulled a length of rope from her pack.

The doctor twisted his head to watch her as she drew close, his single eye peering out from over his shoulder.

“No sudden movements, Devorak.”

“Of course not.” He grinned wryly. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

Kori gripped one of his wrists in her hand and drew it down, folding his arm behind his back. He offered no resistance, pliant in her hands.

So far, so good. She reached for his other arm.

It was to be expected, she supposed. She was, after all, planning to deliver him to his death. So she couldn’t really be surprised when he wrenched his hand away, twisting out of her grip and spinning around to face her.

What she was not expecting was the knife that flashed toward her as he moved. She jerked away, dodging it as best she could - but she wasn’t quite fast enough. The blade grazed her side, making her hiss. Reflexively, she drew her own dagger from her belt and swiped at him.

...but he was already past her, racing down the alley at breakneck speed.

“Unarmed, my ass!” she called after him, wincing as she broke into a run.

He reached the street quickly and dashed around the corner. She followed, gaining speed, her hair whipping around her head, her boots on the cobbles echoing in her ears, and a wide, delighted grin beginning to spread over her face.

The chase was on.


	3. Propose a Toast

The chase did not last long.

At least, the running through the streets part didn’t. He was faster than her, _much_ faster, and dodged in and out of winding passageways and back alleys with ease. She lost sight of him almost immediately, and had to reach out with her magic to locate him, feeling the jittery thrum of his heart beating _fast_ as he fled.

She ran for a short while, hoping to gain on him – then slowed to a walk as he continued to put distance between them. It was futile, she realized. He was too fast, and showed no signs of slowing.

No matter.

Kori turned, leaving the doctor to his escape. It was late, she was tired, and – though she hated to admit it – she couldn’t keep up. But she had found him here; she could find him anywhere. So let him run.

 

* * *

 

Julian skittered across the cobblestones, swinging a wide turn as he dashed down a side street. The more turns he took, the more quickly he would lose her – he just had to hope he didn’t hit any dead ends.

Left, right, right, right, left again. The streets were a maze, growing smaller and more winding as he left the main thoroughfares far behind. He looked back once or twice and didn’t see her, but for all he knew she could be just around the bend. So he kept running.

Eventually – winded and panting, face flushed and sweaty, muscles aching from the strain – he dared to slow his pace. He leaned against the nearest building and wiped at his brow, watching and listening for any sign that she was still in pursuit.

None came. He had lost her.

He sighed, letting his head drop back against the wall and closing his eyes as he worked to catch his breath. So Vesuvia was sending people after him now. But why? It had been years. And how had she found him?

Just what he needed: more questions he couldn’t hope to answer. He shook his head in frustration, opening his eyes to gaze at the sky above him. It was a clear night, and stars twinkled faintly against the black.

What now?

He had been staying with a friend who had a small house in town – more of a hole in the wall than anything else. But now...now he couldn’t go back. It would only put them in danger. If she followed, if she found him again…well. The only life he was willing to risk was his own.

It was time to move on. Skip out on this little town and find a new place to lay low. He nodded to himself, resolved – by morning he would be long gone. And with a little luck, he would never see that woman again.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, luck was not his strong suit.

Which is how it happened that, two days later and five towns over, he found himself sitting face-to-face with his pursuer at the bar of a tiny, run-down drinking hole.

“You have a bit of a thing for seedy taverns, don’t you?” she began conversationally, breaking his stunned silence.

“I uh, I– ahem. I suppose I do. How did you, ah...”

“Find you?” she offered, smiling. “Same way I found you the first time, hun.” She winked and wiggled her fingers in the air. “ _Magic.”_

“That’s, ah...well.” He frowned and glanced around the tavern. It was quiet, and not exactly crowded, but there were still people around. He could run, but...maybe it was better to be in a public place.

“Do you know what that means, Doctor?” she continued, watching him closely. “It means you can run all you like, but I will still find you. All you’ve bought yourself is a little time.

“Sooner or later, you’re going to have to face me. And personally? I’d prefer sooner.”

Julian leaned back on his stool, taking stock of her. Her eyes were trained on him, but otherwise she seemed relaxed – friendly, even, despite her ominous words.

Julian broke out his best smile. “My apologies...Kori, was it? I’m afraid I was rather rude at our last meeting. Nasty business, lashing out at you like that. And to leave without even saying goodbye!”

He leaned forward, and was pleased to see a glimmer of a smile on her lips.

“Let me make it up to you. You look…” He flicked his eyes over her form. “Thirsty. Come, I’ll buy you a drink.”

She laughed, a gentle, throaty sound, and caught the tip of her tongue between grinning teeth as he waved down the bartender. Her eyes never left him, but she made no objection as he ordered for the both of them.

“So. Kori. You, ah, work at the palace then? In Vesuvia? You’re a...soldier, of some sort?”

She answered him easily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to be chatting casually over drinks.

“I’m a magician. Own this cute little shop. It’s the strangest thing, really–” Kori paused to accept her drink from the bartender, and took a quick swig before continuing. “The countess herself came knocking on my door, practically _begging_ me to find you.”

Julian raised an eyebrow. “Nadia? Begging? I find that difficult to imagine.”

“Well...” Kori waved a hand dismissively. “Practically being the operative word. The _point_ is that this whole...mercenary business is actually rather new to me.

“At least– I, uh…” She trailed off, brow drawn, staring down into her drink. “...I think.”

Julian opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, her cheerful smile back in an instant. “Don’t take that the wrong way, though. I’m still a beast with a blade.”

“I, ah–” he chuckled briefly, nervously. “I’m sure. But tell me – the count’s murder was nearly three years ago. Why would she send you now?”

Maybe there was a silver lining to this. Maybe he could actually get some answers.

“You know, I asked her that same question.” Kori gave him a commiserate look, shaking her head. “She failed to give me a straight answer. But–” She grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “What I _do_ know is that she’s planning to throw the Masquerade again. For the very first time since you, well. You know.”

Julian swirled and sipped his drink. “Really? Another Masquerade? How exciting.” He mirrored her grin. “Say what you will about the count, he knew how to throw a party.”

“Mmhmm, well. That’s where she’s planning to execute you. At the Masquerade. Make a spectacle of it, you know?”

He blinked. “...I, ah– I see. I have to say, that does make it _slightly_ less exciting. Or...more exciting?” He hummed, considering.

“So of course she wants you caught before then.” Kori continued matter-of-factly. “Which is why I’m here. Now, why she didn’t do this last year, or the year before…? I really couldn’t say.”

She took another sip of her drink. “...but you can ask her yourself, when we get to Vesuvia.”

“I, ah–” He chuckled, shaking his head. “On second thought, I don’t think I really need to know.”

Silence fell between them. It was friendly, but not quite comfortable, like a sunny day with dark, shifting clouds on the horizon. Kori propped an elbow up on the bar and rested her head in her hand, gazing at him with a patient smile.

“So, Doctor, how is this going to play out? Do you want to run? Fight? Or just…” She gestured lazily, drink in hand. “...while away the hours in pleasant conversation?”

“Hah. You know, that last option sounds alright. Can I pick the last one?”

“Mmm, well…” Kori sighed. “Not that it isn’t tempting. But I feel like we should get the whole ‘I’m a mercenary sent to capture you’ thing out of the way, first.”

Julian shrugged and took a long swig of his drink. “If you insist.”

“I, uh...mm. Well. I suppose I should get on with it, then.”

He met her eye and held it. “I suppose you should.”

But she made no move to advance, still smiling gently at him, still resting lazily on the bar.

“But first!” A bright grin lit up her face, and she raised her glass in front of her. “A toast.”

Julian cocked his head at her, raising an eyebrow, waiting.

“To the chase.”

He snorted and shook his head, but raised his glass nonetheless. “To not getting caught.”

She chuckled, clinked their glasses together, and drank. He sipped at his own drink, watching her warily over the rim.

She lowered her glass and peered into it thoughtfully, swirling what remained of its contents. Then she looked up at him, grinned broadly, and threw her drink in his face.

Julian was on his feet in a flash, hastily wiping the liquid from his eye. He opened it again just in time to witness Kori grab a big, burly patron from behind her, hook them around the waist, and shove them bodily in his direction.

The surprised patron careened toward him, and Julian had neither the time nor the wherewithal to do much of anything before they slammed into him, tripping and stumbling and driving them both to the ground.

He flailed, managing quickly if gracelessly to extricate himself and rise to his feet. As he stood, he extended a hand for the downed stranger, pulling them up with him – and found himself entirely unprepared when they hurled a fist into his face.

He staggered back, tasting blood. What–?

“Think you can pick a fight with me, you–” they glared at him, seething, “–you bleached giraffe!?”

Julian blinked. “But I didn’t–”

His protest was cut short as someone grabbed him from behind, fingers digging unforgivingly into his arms. He jerked, twisted, managed to tear one arm free and swiveled to face his attacker. It was Kori, of course. He slid a knife from his pocket and swung it, hoping to drive her away.

But this time, she was ready for it. She let go of his arm and deflected the blade, deftly catching his wrist and twisting it, hard. It sent him off balance, stumbling backward into the bar, where she slammed his hand onto the countertop – once, twice, until he lost his grip and the knife went skittering away.

Then her other hand was around his throat, nails biting into his skin, squeezing tight and driving him back against the bar. He made a choked-off sound, his free hand clawing at her arm, trying to pull her off. She stood her ground tenaciously as he struggled, not ceding an inch – right up until the moment he tangled his fingers in her hair and _yanked._

She yelped, pulling back just enough for him to break her grip and slip out from under her. He pushed off the bar, set his sights on the nearest exit, and–

–was immediately cut off by a hulking, snarling figure. The angry patron, who apparently wasn’t done with him yet. They grabbed the front of his jacket in one large hand and pulled him close, their face alight with malice. He tried, and failed, to tug away as they drew back a massive, malevolent fist.

But before they could loose it, something painfully solid cracked against the back of his skull. Julian lurched forward, blinking rapidly as stars began to blossom in front of his eyes.

Then everything went black.

 

* * *

 

Soft morning sunlight woke him, warm as it fell across his face. He groaned, sullen and achy, squeezing his eyes shut. He was propped up in an overstuffed chair, his limbs twisted at odd, ungainly angles; there was a crick in his neck, and his hands prickled painfully with numbness.

He shifted awkwardly, seeking out a more comfortable position, pulling his arms from behind–

Oh no.

“Well _good_ _morning,_ sunshine. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t wake up.”

Julian hastily blinked sleep from his eyes, turning to look, to confirm, even though he knew, he already _knew._

His wrists were bound. She was here.

“Although, by the look of those bags around your eye, maybe you just really needed the sleep.”

He was caught.

He blinked at her blearily from his cramped position in the chair. She was sitting across from him, perched comfortably on the edge of a small bed, and she looked so perfectly at ease – relaxed, _smiling_ – as sunlight dappled her features and dust motes drifted lazily nearby.

And then, for some unintelligible reason, Julian began to laugh. Soft and low at first; then louder, faster, _uncontrollably._

He was going to hang.


	4. Evade an Accusation

“Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything? A snack, some water...when’s the last time you ate?”

Julian shifted, stretching his legs and rolling his shoulders against the lingering aches of cramped sleep. He felt strange, like the world was tilting around him. Like he should be afraid, but...was he? Not exactly. He almost felt...not happy, no, but...relieved? Maybe. Resigned?

“Devorak.”

Oh. Right. She had asked him a question.

He shook his head, strands of unkempt hair falling into his face. “No, no, I’m fine.”

Kori stared at him, lips pursed, looking entirely unconvinced. But she didn’t push it.

“Well, in that case –” she stood, and looked around the room. “– we should get going. It’s a long way back to Vesuvia.”

Vesuvia. Where this whole mess began. And where it would end – at least for him. He knew that, had known that, for a while now. Yet he had continued to put it off, continued to run, continued to hide, trying for whatever reason to prolong the inevitable.

But it looked like the inevitable had finally caught up to him.

His captor began to putter around the room, collecting scattered odds and ends and shoving them into her pack. Julian tugged idly at his restraints while he waited, testing their strength. Pins and needles swept painfully through his hands – then faded, leaving him no less bound but with a bit more feeling in his fingers.

That was something, at least. Silver linings and all.

When he looked up again the witch was watching him, worrying at her bottom lip. Her gaze was thoughtful, something searching in her eyes.

Then her expression settled, decision written in her face, and she walked over to him. One hand reached out and draped across his collar, pressing him back against the chair, holding him firmly in place.

He stiffened reflexively, his eye going wide.

“Hey, relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” she soothed, though her grip didn’t waver. She brought her other hand over his head.

Something cold and wet began to drip onto him, pooling on his crown and trickling down the sides of his face. He shivered at the sensation, grimacing – but didn’t fight it.

Then Kori pulled back. She looked him up and down and nodded briefly to herself.

“What was that? What did you do?” He could have sworn she’d poured something on his head, but the feeling was already gone, dissipated without a trace.

“Just a little spell to ensure we won’t be bothered. Now, come on –” She reached down, hooked an arm around his, and tugged him to his feet. He stumbled a little, leaning against her for support as he found his own footing. “– it’s time to go.”

  


* * *

  


As she led the doctor through the streets of the city, Kori found herself rather pleased to see that her spell was working flawlessly. The eyes of strangers would land on him – this entirely too-tall, eyepatch-wearing redhead, with his hands bound behind his back – and then simply slip away, as if he were no more noteworthy than another stray cat.

Devorak walked silently as she guided him along – he hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left the inn. She wondered idly if it would be like this the whole trip. God, she hoped not: that would be _awfully_ boring.

They made their way through a bustling marketplace, and Kori continued to watch with no small amount of self-satisfaction as eyes slid easily away from the doctor. She had a right to be proud: she’d never tried this spell before – and she’d done a damn good job of it, if she did say so herself.

A short, slight merchant with colorful gemstones braided into his hair glanced at Devorak, then immediately looked away, his gaze falling instead to Kori. She smiled. _That’s right, nothing to see here..._

The merchant’s eyes went wide.

“Hey, you!” He dashed out in front of them, cutting off their path. “I know you.”

Kori started, looking him over. His nostrils flared, his eyes alight with anger. He didn’t look familiar.

“You’re that _thief_ who stole from me yesterday!”

“I, uh…” Kori looked past the merchant to his market stall.

Oh.

The countertop was littered with glittering gems and jewelry of every variety – and it did, in fact, look familiar. She seemed to recall one particular golden armband that had caught her eye…

Her gaze returned to the fuming merchant and she gave him her kindest, gentlest smile. “I’m sorry, friend. You must have me confused with someone else.”

“ _Liar!_ I’ll see you arrested for this! Guards!”

Dammit.

Kori frowned and glanced around. The market was large, and busy – and city guards were stationed around its perimeter. The nearest pair was looking over at them: they had heard the merchant’s call.

Kori looked to Devorak – only to find him _grinning_ like a damn fool _,_ amusement dancing on his features. And, god help her, his delight was contagious: she found herself laughing, even as the guards began to advance.

“Alright, Devorak. Let’s see you put those long legs to good use.”

She set off without waiting for a response, tugging him along beside her. He stumbled a little, but kept his balance, breaking into an awkward jog. She was relieved but not surprised that he came without protest – after all, he had little to gain in the hands of the city guards.

They ran liltingly, barging through crowds of people and stumbling around market stalls. Shouts rang out behind them, not yet close, but gaining. They were slow like this, terribly slow, with the doctor bound and Kori hanging on to him, each trying clumsily to keep pace with the other. There was no way they would be able to outrun the guards.

But hopefully, they wouldn’t have to.

Kori grabbed a fistful of rice from an open barrel as they swung around a sprawling food stall. They were nearing the edge of the market now: the stalls began to thin, replaced by stacks upon stacks of storage crates and barrels. She could hear pounding boots behind them – the guards were getting close.

Kori focused her breath, focused her mind, and threw the rice out in front of her, letting it scatter in a wide arc across the cobblestones. Then she jerked the doctor in a sharp, sudden turn, ducking past a large pile of crates.

Devorak stumbled at the unexpected change in direction, careening off balance toward her. She caught him roughly, took a few unsteady steps back, then spun them both around and yanked him down behind the crates.

They hit the ground hard.

“ _Oof._ Ow. What are you d–mmmff!”

Kori clapped a hand to the doctor’s mouth, rolling her body over him to pin him against the cobbles. She held a finger to her lips and glared.

He seemed to get the message, going still and silent beneath her, his eye wide and his body tense as he stared up into her face.

They listened to the clamoring footfalls rush past them, panting as quietly as they could. Behind the crates, pressed low to the ground, they were mercifully hidden from view.

The guards ran on in hot pursuit – of something that wasn’t there: oblivious to Kori’s magic as it played fleeting, phantom tricks upon their minds.

The witch and the doctor waited in tense silence, gradually catching their breath. Eventually, when the footfalls had long since faded, when she was certain the guards weren’t coming around again, Kori rolled off of him.

Devorak winced, hissed, and turned on his side, angling away from her.

She blinked, suddenly concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Ah...no. No, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

She reached for his arm, pulling him back toward her, looking for signs of injury. The first thing she noticed was that his face was flushed pink.

“Then what’s–”

The second thing she noticed was the bulge straining against his pants.

“–oh.”

She couldn’t help herself, she really couldn’t. The laughter came of its own accord. It bubbled up out of her in a gleeful little spring, splitting her face into a wide grin, light and easy and (she swore!) entirely without malice.

Devorak flushed a deeper shade of red. “That’s, ah– that’s– well. I– I did tell you I was fine.”

“ _Quite_ fine, it would seem.” She grinned at him, still chuckling softly, and quirked a playful eyebrow. “You know, I can help you with that, if you like.”

The color in his cheeks grew darker, creeping out over the rest of his face. He stared at her, mouth slightly open, seemingly at a loss for how to respond.

“No? Well– in that case, we should probably get out of here.”

She stood and pulled him to his feet, ignoring his blush and his erection and trying very hard not to notice the way he was biting at his lower lip. She looked around – the guards were nowhere to be seen, and any onlookers had long since returned to their own business.

And so she set off, her captive in tow, leaving the crowded marketplace far behind. The sooner they were out of this city, the better.

  


* * *

  


Nadia had offered Kori many things to aid her in her chase: an entourage of guards, the palace’s finest tracking dogs, an extravagant carriage in which to travel. Kori had declined them all – save for a single, sturdy horse.

Well. That, and a heavy purse.

They arrived at the stable without further incident. Kori made quick work of tacking up the mare and packing her saddlebags, while Devorak leaned against the stable wall to watch. Once everything was in place, Kori swung up into the saddle and beckoned to the doctor.

“Alright, come on. Up with you.”

Devorak raised an eyebrow and didn’t move. “How exactly am I supposed to mount a horse with my hands tied?”

“I’ll help. It’s not that hard.”

He scoffed, pushing himself up off the wall – but didn’t approach, instead looking past her, his expression thoughtful.

They were well away from the crowded bustle of the city now – almost entirely alone, save for the muffled sounds of stable hands working inside and a few distant travelers visible down the main road. In one direction, the road ran back toward the city, and a motley assortment of buildings grew dense along its path. In the other, it swept off into the countryside and disappeared along the horizon.

Kori watched the doctor’s face carefully as he examined the landscape; his hesitation was almost palpable. She had a sense for these things, usually – but he couldn’t really be thinking what she thought he was thinking...could he?

“Devorak. You may be a faster runner than _me,_ but I doubt you’re faster than this horse. Especially bound.”

He startled, frowned, and looked back at her. “I– uh. I wasn’t going to run.”

“I’m sure. Now get over here already – or would you rather I sling you over the back and be done with it?” She patted the horse’s flank to illustrate her point.

”That– ahem.” He coughed, and a light blush crept over his cheeks. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, finally walking over. “Now, how exactly is this supposed to work?”

“Just put your foot in the stirrup and step up. No– other foot. _Please_ tell me you’ve ridden a horse before…”

It took a few moments of unwieldy flailing limbs and quite a bit of bodily maneuvering on Kori’s part, but eventually, through combined effort, they managed to get the doctor seated in front of her. To the horse’s credit, she stood still and steady through the whole ordeal – Kori would have to remember to reward her with extra treats tonight.

“Can you just– slouch a bit more? I can barely see,” Kori complained as she reached around the doctor to take the reigns. It was a clumsy arrangement, to be sure – Devorak was tall and blocked much of her view, and with no other way to balance, he had to lean awkwardly back against her – but it would suffice. For all her talk, Kori didn’t fancy the time and effort it would take to fasten him across the saddlebags.

Besides, this way was much more civil.

Kori kicked the mare into an easy walk and turned her toward the main road. It was early still – just a few hours past sunrise. Despite their earlier setback, they’d be able to cover good ground today.

And so they set off, the mercenary witch and her captured fugitive killer, on their long journey back to Vesuvia. Back toward the judgment so long evaded; back toward the countess with her sights set on blood.

And, if all went according to plan, straight into the swift, grim hands of justice.


	5. Make a Gentle Threat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Here there be smut._
> 
> Please note: Dub-con warnings apply in this chapter due to the power imbalance between characters (sex in captivity). I probably won't warn for this in future chapters, just know that going forward there are likely to be more sexytimes with the same/similar dynamic at play.

They rode in relative silence, passing other travelers with brief, cursory greetings, watching the scenery shift from wide, open plains to small, rolling hills, to sparse, gentle forest.

When late afternoon began to slide into evening, they left the road and ventured a little way into the woods, to the edge of a burbling stream. There were inns along the road, but Kori was tired from using so much magic that morning, and wasn’t sure she and her captive would be welcome if she didn’t glamour him again.

So they’d stay here, make a fire, eat some jerky from her pack.

It would do.

Kori dismounted and helped the doctor down. It was still awkward, with his hands fastened behind him, but after a handful of rest stops along the way they’d gotten...well, _better_ at it, at least.

Once Devorak was steady, she led the horse to the edge of the water. While the mare drank, Kori leaned back against the trunk of a tree, taking a moment to stretch her limbs and crack her neck from side to side.

“Why did you accept?” The doctor’s question came out of nowhere.

Kori looked over at him – he was watching her, curiosity written in his face. She raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, ah–” he backpedaled, apparently realizing he’d been less than specific. “Why did you agree to do this? It can’t be typical work for a magician.”

She smiled softly and shrugged. “It seemed like an interesting challenge. And the countess was rather insistent.”

“Those are hardly compelling reasons to put yourself in danger.”

“I like danger,” she countered, flashing him a mischievous grin.

Devorak chuckled and came closer to where she rested against the tree. “I suppose we have something in common, then.” He paused, and a brief shadow passed over his face. Then his eyes fell to her torso.

“...did I cut you? The other day, I mean.”

“What, this little scratch?” she scoffed, pulling up the hem of her shirt to reveal a small bandage taped to her side – and did not fail to notice the way he swallowed at the sight of her bared skin.

He eyed the bandage and frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Her eyebrows shot up. He sounded sincere. Was he really apologizing for _that?_

“Do you want me to take a look at it?” he continued. “I am a doctor, after all.”

She laughed and dropped her shirt back down. “And I’m a magician. It’s practically healed already. If you want me to untie you you’ll have to come up with a better excuse than that.”

He met her gaze, his expression thoughtful. There was concern in his eye, and she found it...well, rather unnerving.

“You’re...not exactly what I expected, are you?” she ventured after a moment.

He looked surprised. “That depends – what did you expect?”

What did she expect?

It was a good question. What _did_ she expect?

Did she think he’d be a stereotypical lowlife full of nothing but anger and malice? That was silly, and she knew it.

Still, she wasn’t entirely prepared for his aura to be quite so... _gentle._

“Hrm...for one thing, I thought you’d be taller.”

He blinked, then snorted, his face splitting into a wide grin. “Oh really?”

“Much taller, yes. And far more intimidating. You’d think the eyepatch would do it, but honestly, the menace just isn’t there.”

“I’m not intimidating enough for you?”

She shrugged, flashing him a teasing half-smile.

He narrowed his eyes, and a crafty grin began to play upon his lips. “Don’t tell me you’re not at least a _little_ unsettled. I am, after all, a _dangerous_ fugitive,” his eyebrows arched dramatically, “wanted for _murder–”_

In one long stride he closed the distance between them, looming over her, their faces mere inches apart–

–and froze, stock-still in a heartbeat, the only sound his quick intake of breath.

“Careful, Devorak,” Kori said softly.

He stood still as a statue, his eye fixed on hers, as the cool metal of her blade stole warmth from his throat.

She held his eye with a stoic gaze: a warning, gentle but imperative. He swallowed – slowly, carefully, his throat bobbing against the blade.

“Are you going to kill me, Kori?” he breathed.

There was something in his voice, in the intensity of his gaze, that almost made it sound like a challenge.

Almost.

“Only if you make me.”

His eye tracked over her face. He was so close now she could see the grain of his iris, soft and grey like clouds after rain. His lips were parted, his breathing so soft and shallow he might as well be holding his breath.

She realized abruptly that she, too, was barely breathing, the air catching in her lungs as she watched his eye move over her, as it settled, staring, at her mouth.

“I guess I’d better be careful, then.”

Kori flicked her tongue over her lips, but said nothing.

And continued to say nothing as Devorak shifted, so slightly that it was nearly imperceptible, tilting his face toward her, angling himself just a bit closer, pressing ever-so-softly against the blade at his throat.

Then he paused, watching her, waiting.

When her silence persisted and her eyes began to fixate on his lips, he moved again. A little further this time, inch by cautious inch, until she could feel the soft puffs of his breath upon her skin. She let her dagger move with him, docile as it lay against his pulse.

Then she tilted her head back, just a little, angling her face toward his.

He closed the remaining distance in the space of a breath, his lips warm and soft and insistent as they finally captured her mouth in his. A muffled sigh escaped her, and she let her eyes flutter closed.

There was something electric about it, a static buzzing on the surface of skin; behind the warm press of lips was a tension strung tight between them. With his hands still bound behind him, and the dagger still lingering at his throat, he was utterly at her mercy – his life balanced on the edge of her blade.

She wouldn’t take it, of course. Not here. Not like this. Not without a _very_ good reason.

But only a fool would let him this close without some kind of safeguard.

...

Oh, to hell with it.

She let the dagger drop away.

He pressed forward further as her hands fell to her sides, bringing their bodies flush together, deepening the kiss as he moved. She let herself be swept away in it, opening her mouth to him, tasting him with her tongue, feeling the heat rise through her as his body caged her against the tree.

Eventually he broke the kiss, leaving them both flushed and a little breathless. Kori gazed up at him through hooded eyes, their chests pressing tight as they breathed, watching the way he ran his tongue over his lower lip.

He grinned, catching her eye. “Well this feels rather familiar, doesn’t it?” he quipped, his voice breathy and low.

Her mind flashed back to that night in the alley, with his arms around her and her mouth upon his neck. “Hmmnn.” She bit her lip, digging teeth into her own skin.

He pressed his forehead to hers, leaning in. “A shame we were...interrupted, before.”

“A crying shame,” she agreed.

He shifted, glancing down to where her arms hung motionless by her sides. “You were more handsy last time.”

“Mmm.” Her fingers twitched, but she held herself still. “So were you.”

That earned her a laugh – a real one, full and long and musical in her ears. He let his head drop past her to rest against the tree as his chest quaked with it, shaking them both.

As his laughter subsided, she turned her head toward him, and he hummed as her lips brushed his ear.

“Tell me what you want, Devorak.”

He inhaled sharply through his nose, then blew it out in a long hiss. “What I want?”

“Tell me.”

He was silent for a long moment. Long enough that she began to think he wouldn’t respond. But then he sighed deeply, and she could feel the tension escaping his shoulders; he dropped his head further, pressing his face into her neck.

“Touch me. Please,” he whispered into her skin.

Her hands were on him in a heartbeat, the dagger flung hastily to the side. She brushed one hand up the back of his neck, pushing fingers into his hair, scratching against his scalp. The other hand skimmed along his waist, his hip, his ribcage.

A low groan escaped him and he leaned into her further, the weight of him pressing all around her. Her fingers found his waistband, exploring, searching, trying to slip underneath. But there were so many layers, all she found was more cloth. She fisted her hand in his jacket and tugged, growling in frustration.

“You have _far_ too much clothing,” she complained.

“Then take it off,” he breathed, his voice hot against her skin.

She pushed her hands between them, finding the fastenings of his jacket, and began to pull at them in rough, clumsy movements. While she worked, she turned her head and caught the edge of his ear in her mouth, licking and nibbling, relishing the way he shivered at the touch.

“Mmmm…” he hummed, his chest vibrating with the sound of it. “You don’t have to be gentle with me, you know.”

Kori’s breath caught in her throat. She pressed her mouth to his ear and whispered, “No?”

“No.”

She grinned, and bit.

Her teeth dug into the cartilage of his ear and tugged, scraping against delicate skin. He gasped and started, then released a low chuckle amid breathless pants.

“Ah...aha, now that’s more like it.”

A growl ripped from her throat, all of her patience suddenly gone. She grabbed him by the waist, spun them both around, and slammed him back against the tree.

“ _Umph,”_ he groaned as he hit the bark. His face was flushed, his breathing hard, his lip tugged between his teeth as he gazed at her with one heavy, hooded eye.

She attacked his jacket, tearing the remaining snaps free and pulling it open, pushing it back over his shoulders. He was wearing a shirt underneath (to her dismay), but it was a thin, fragile thing, the front laced only loosely, leaving a swath of his chest beautifully exposed.

With one swift tug she pulled the hem of his shirt free and slipped her hands underneath, finally, _finally_ running her palms over deliciously bare skin. She pushed forward, pressing her mouth to his collarbone, her tongue hot and wet against him as he shuddered and dropped his head back.

She sank her teeth into him. Not quite hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make him buck and groan, hard enough to leave an angry red impression in his skin. She worked her way up the side of his neck, gnawing on him, her hands roaming greedily beneath his shirt all the while.

Then she dipped her fingers under his waistband, tracing the hard lines of his hip bones, and panted, open-mouthed, against his throat.

“ _I want you,”_ she groaned, the words hot on his skin.

She could feel his chest heaving, hitched and heavy as he chased his breath, his pulse hammering madly under her tongue.

“Take,” he gasped, “just– _take.”_

She pressed teeth into skin once more, slipped a hand into his pants, and took him into her palm. He was delightfully hard, throbbing against her fingers as she stroked him once, twice, her grip tight along his length; she listened to the way he moaned at the touch, taut and helpless in her grasp.

Then she released her hold, reaching instead for his waistband to tug it down, down around his hips, freeing him from the confines of his clothing. She wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, fisted the collar of his shirt with the other, and pulled him down roughly, driving him toward the ground until he dropped to his knees before her with a soft grunt.

She stepped back, taking a moment to catch her breath, letting her eyes rake over him. He was beautiful – no, not beautiful, _exquisite._ Oh, he was pretty enough before, but _this –_ this was different. Bound, kneeling, head bowed, half-clothed and disheveled, his body flush with desire, his erection exposed and _ready._

She was weak for it. Weaker still, as he lifted his face to meet her eyes, his lips parted on ragged breaths, his eye dark with need. There was a plea in his gaze: a supplication.

A new urgency overtook her; she shucked off her swords, and in one quick motion divested herself of her pants, kicking them off over her boots and neglecting to care about the rest of her clothing as she stepped toward him once more.

She took hold of his shoulders and pushed him back onto his heels, his face tipping up to watch her as she lowered herself over him. One hand tangled into his hair, the other grasped his cock, and her lips overtook his in a greedy kiss as she took him all the way into her.

He moaned into her mouth as they connected, arching back against the hand that held his head. She kissed him deeply, pushing her tongue into his mouth, swallowing the wordless sounds he made as she began to move above him.

She rocked in his lap, finding her rhythm, thrusting down onto him with steady, practiced movements. His hips stuttered against her, bucking up with what little leverage he could manage, driving deep, deeper into her as their twin endeavors began to fall into sync.

She groaned and let her head fall to his shoulder. All thoughts fell away but for the feeling of him moving inside her, the warmth of his body beneath her, her heart pounding madly in her chest. Oh, how good it felt to be _filled._

Her movements grew stronger, more insistent, as the pressure began to build within her. She tugged his head back, exposing the pale curve of his neck, and littered hot kisses along the line of his throat, letting her teeth scratch softly at vulnerable skin.

“ _Fuck,”_ he gasped, “I’m– ah–” He cut himself off with a shaky groan.

“Not yet,” she breathed. “Not yet.”

She reached between them, fingers finding her clit, caressing herself in time to the buck of her hips. He arched back, his whole body taut, pressing the crown of his head into the tree behind him, bracing himself against it as he groaned in broken gasps with every movement.

She drove herself down onto him mercilessly. She could feel the tension coiling within her, she was getting close now, so close…

It was too much for him, it would seem. He came with a heady cry, shuddering and spilling into her in desperate waves. She growled and nipped at the skin of his neck, continuing her relentless pace even as his groans turned to whimpers, torn from his throat. She wasn’t done – not yet, not quite.

A few more punishing jerks of her hips, a few more desperate circles of her fingers – soon she was following him, convulsing in his lap, fingers tangling tightly in his hair as her release shuddered through her. She moaned into his shoulder as her body shook with it, stars dancing in her head.

And then they were still, shivering breathlessly against each other, the air quiet but for their soft panting and the gentle rush of the stream.

 

* * *

 

Kori was the first to break the silence. She slid her hand out of his hair and lifted her face to look at him: his head was still tipped back, his breathing soft, his eye closed.

“Are you alright?” she asked him softly.

He huffed a little, quiet in the still air, and shifted, lifting his head and letting his shoulders fall back against the tree. He peered at her through a lidded eye, and a ghost of a smile passed over his lips. Then he looked away.

“Devorak,” she insisted, cupping his face in her palm and making him look back at her. “Are you OK?”

He chuckled then, greeting her with a small grin. “Are you worried about me, Kori?”

“Just answer the ques–”

“Julian,” he interrupted.

“...what?”

“Call me Julian.”

She blinked at him for a moment, searching his face, then exhaled sharply through her nose.

“Julian,” she conceded. “Are you OK?”

His quiet, gentle demeanor fell away then: his lips pulled back in a wide grin, and one eyebrow arched theatrically along his brow.

“Oh, I’m just peachy.”


End file.
